I wrote a novella called Soft. It has 258 chapters. Because I don't even know how I'd go about publishing only a section of it in a literary journal--and because I'm putting the thing out myself anyways and because I'm too impatient to wait for someone else to make me a priority and because because because--I'm putting the first 36 chapters up here as a preview. So here's what you're not buying, people of the world. At least now you can know why you're not buying it.

One person who read it was Megan Martin, author of the book Nevers out on Caketrain Press. It's a fantastic book, disjointed and shattered and told in the sort of little absurd pieces I can relate to and crib heavily from. Not to hit the inside baseball too hard, but we call this a "blurb" in the book business. It's a very weird tradition of using the often-hypothetical drawing-power of someone else's name, sometimes your friends and sometimes not, to sell more books. Following Megan's blurb--and I will call her Megan, as I've met her and she's lovely and this is one of those instances where she is a friend and I'm happy to have her name attached to this book, even if it's only tangential and even if it doesn't make anyone buy it--there are some fake blurbs from real authors that you may treat as fact if it'll make you buy my goddamn book.

High visibility, folks.

Anyways, here are some blurbs.

"With the wit and heartbreak of Amy Hempel, the satirical eye of George Saunders, and the "we're on this earth to fart around" mentality of Kurt Vonnegut, the 258 micro-chapters of Ryan Werner's Soft tell the story of a failed rock band on tour. In sharp, spare, laugh-out-loud prose, Werner's misfit characters struggle to find their purpose in a world defined by alienation, death, and soul-sucking capitalism. These characters desire more from life, but are unsure what more looks like or how to get it. While they're figuring it out, they cope by trading clever one-liners, eating a lot of gas station food, obsessing over the world's extinction, and mailing koan-like postcards sacross the country. This is a small, smart book that asks the big questions about the age we're stuck in: What is the good life? Does it exist? How can we create authentic selves and art in a world that values neither?" - Megan Martin, author of Nevers

"I shared a Facebook status Ryan Werner wrote one time. It was about the Rick Derringer song 'Rock & Roll Hoochie Koo' This book is about music and girls. Really groundbreaking stuff, I'm sure." - Nick Hornby, author of High Fidelity

"I read this book outside. Have you ever been outside? It's wonderful out there. Let me tell you about Montana for awhile." - Rick Bass, author of The Watch

"I wish I wasn't dead so I could enjoy this book a little more. I hear there's a part where a man goes shopping at a grocery store. He's possibly distraught. His life hasn't caught up with him yet, or vice versa. The years haven't disappeared because the years don't take the easy way out. He picks up an orange, a plantain. 'Who picks these?' he asks a young woman who is mostly her vest but partially her frown, the frown itself partial in terms of the world. 'I don't know,' she replies. 'I just don't know.' And that's probably what this book is like. Probably." - Raymond Carver, author of Cathedral